


I Meant To

by lildemonlili



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Angst, Just angst, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 16:06:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14752017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lildemonlili/pseuds/lildemonlili
Summary: How do you recover? When you fall and no-one catches you? How do you get back up?





	I Meant To

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't hate me for this

Artificial light shone down on light wooden panels and matching floors. Reflected in the mirror and in glazed eyes. Shone in the sheen of sweat covering a body. The only body. The only real thing in the room. And the body moved, fluidly, strong muscles reacting to the music almost on instinct. Strong muscles. Strong girl. Weak mind.

A resentful huff slipped past her lips, as the girl met her own eyes in the mirror, boring into her own soul. Finding nothing but past. But she kept going. Pushed her arms over her head, palms meeting as she shook her hip. Arms slid down and twisted around her face, circling her body. Her foot left the floor, her body arching like a bow. Hair fell in her eyes as she spread her legs and arms, waist aching as she moved. Found her eyes in the mirror again, arms propelling around her body as it turned. Another shake of the hip, and then her arms circled again, settling around her body. For a moment her mind fell on leaner arms than hers, snaking around her waist and a body pressed against her back. Missed the beat and stumbled.

It hurt. But there was no choice. She had to be the best. There was only her. So she walked backwards and started over. Less power in her arms, in her hips. Still her palms met and slid down with her arms, around her face. Sweat, or maybe tears - she wasn’t sure anymore – slid over her palm as it touched her jawline amidst her movements. Her elbow bent a little bit as she swung her arms. And when her body arched, the lights from above blinded her. She stumbled.

In another world, in another life, it would never be just her. There would never be a quiet if she stumbled. But it wasn’t another life. It was just reality. So she walked back. Ran a hand over her wet cheek and through her hair, staring herself down. Something alike a growl curled her lips, narrowed her eyes. Feigned confidence lived in her strides as she took the four steps, throwing her arms up again, let her palms meet. Longed for someone else’s palm to meet hers instead. Stumbled.

A single pained cry moved up her throat, and no matter her efforts she couldn’t swallow it. It had never hurt her much, to feel pain. Was used to aching muscles, used to bumps and bruises. But hands clenched around her heart, threatening to break it. Every breath was like a punch to the gut and every thought made the hands tighten. She would rather not feel at all. For no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get to feel what she wanted to. She had missed her chance. So instead she pressed her lips together. Swiped her palm across the tears that gathered under her chin. Swallowed a cry and walked backwards. Stumbled over her own feet before she had even begun. Felt her body hit the wooden floor, and looked up at the logo on the wall. Clenched her teeth.

Gave up.

Not a single ounce of energy left, she rolled onto her back, limbs spread out from her body, staring into the blinding light of the lamps above. Hoped they would blind her so she wouldn’t have to see what was missing. Hoping the exhaustion would allow her one dreamless sleep. She closed her eyes, maybe to sleep, maybe just to get the tears to stop. It itched slightly as they trickled into the shell of her ear, but she didn’t wipe them. Couldn’t even if she cared enough to try.

Something touched her arm. Cool, dry fingers on her clammy skin. Recognized the breathing immediately. Didn’t dare open her eyes. Fingertips stroked over her hairline, and she felt her throat close up. Recognized the perfume. A hand fell on her shoulder, warm and welcoming, squeezing slightly. The next settled over her heart. A hand ran over her hair, slowly, calmly, as it always had done when she cried. And fingers tangled with hers on either side. Finally, a hand cupped her cheek and spoke a quiet word. Her word. Her name. Again, this voice more powerful. The next melodious. Then sweet. Soft. Loving. Hoarse. The last barely a whisper. But they were all there. And she wanted to say something. Anything.

Had meant to say it.

But she hadn’t. Hadn’t spoken up when she should’ve, and like water they had slipped through her fingers. She hadn’t told them not to-. Hadn’t told them that her life was empty without them. Hadn’t held them tight enough. Had just waited. Still waited. Waited for them to hear her broken heart ticking in theirs. For them to come back to her. But they didn’t. Because she hadn’t said it.

Lights blinded her when she opened her eyes, and the magic was broken.

She lay shivering and alone on the floor of the studio, with no hands, no voices, no hope. Just her own whisper breaking the silence.

“Stay with me.”

But no one heard.

There was no one left to listen.

She had spoken too late.


End file.
